The Hidden Heiress
by Psycho-Silversong13
Summary: Rosalyn Black has grown up in the Muggle world — which means she knows nothing about witchcraft or wizardry. But — even though she was raised in the Muggle world — that doesn't mean that she's a Muggleborn. Her father is Sirius Black — though he doesn't know that she exists — and her mother was a descendant of the Peverells. What awaits her at Hogwarts? Let's find out. *ON HIATUS*


Rosalyn Black was a witch that almost no one knew existed. Which was probably a good thing, because if they knew who her father was, they would be horrified. In fact, if she knew who her father was, _she_ would be horrified. So it's probably for the best that she grew up in a Muggle orphanage, not knowing that her father is Sirius Black, the man locked up in Azkaban for mass murder.

She was born one rainy 16 May, 1980, in a small hospital in London. Her mother had been brutally attacked and severely injured, and had barely been ale to make it to the door of the nearest house, the owners of which called an ambulance. As the mother lay in the delivery room, she managed to muster enough strength to lift her arms and remove her necklace, asking the nurse to send it with the child, and to make sure she went to a good home.

Those were her final words, other than the child's name, Rosalyn Black. What came next was a pain that felt like her body was tearing itself in two as Rosalyn slowly made her way into the world, and her mother quickly slipped out of it.

 _12 Grimmauld Place..._

A portrait of a girl with raven-black hair and striking blue eyes appears on a tapestry, the name _Rosalyn Black_ scrawled under it. Above the portrait is another name, _Sirius Black_ , the portrait going with it replaced with a burned-out hole. And next to that name is one that very few people have seen, _Margaret Peverell_ , the portrait belonging to it containing a woman with almost-white blond hair and the same striking blue eyes as the girl. The dates on the first two only have the year of birth, but on the third, one slowly stitches itself into apparition, the year _1980_ forming as the year of death.

 _ **Eleven Years Later...**_

A black-haired girl, around ten or eleven years old, sits on a bed in a room, playing with a necklace around her throat. The necklace is the only biological thing she has from her biological mother, and she has nothing from her father. The door swings open, revealing an oddly-dressed elderly man with a long white beard. "Hello, Rosalyn," he says, his blue eyes twinkling merrily, "How are you, today?"

"I'm fine, sir," she replies, looking back at the floor and kicking her legs.

"You don't look fine, dear girl," he presses, "You look unhappy. Tell me, why do you look unhappy?"

"I got in trouble today, sir," she answers, "But you know that already, don't you?"

"Why would you think that, Miss Black?" he asks, sitting in the desk chair.

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it?" she asks, "You're another one of those doctors who come because the women who run this place think I'm going batty."

"My dear child," the strange man attempts to calm her, "I do not think you are crazy. At least, no more than I am. My name is Professor Dumbledore, and I am simply here to talk to you about a school."

"What kind of school?" Rosalyn asks, sitting up straighter and looking at the Professor.

"A boarding school, of sorts," he replies, "For children with talents similar to yours. A school for young witches and wizards."

"So all the things I wanted to make Tammy and Teri pay for," she says, "Which they afterwards did. The fire, the toys..." Here she trails off.

"That was magic," he replies.

"Wicked," she grins, her smile rivaling the Cheshire Cat's.

"Here is your letter," Professor Dumbledore says, stands up, crossing the room to hand her an envelope, "Along with a small allowance from the Ministry of Magic, since you are an orphan, and a key to your mother's vault in Gringotts, the wizarding bank. I, or someone from the Hogwarts staff, will return in July to help you with the purchasing of school supplies and the navigation of wizarding London." He hands her a small pouch that clinks as it falls into her hands, and a silver key about the size of her palm.

"Thank you, Professor," she says, standing up and giving him and giving him a hug, "For showing me that I'm not a freak." "You're quite welcome, my dear," he answers as she steps back, before turning and exiting the room, the door silently closing behind him. Rosalyn stares at the letter in her hands, then shakes her head and tucks it under her pillow. She removes her necklace, slipping the key onto the chain, where it sits beside the pendant with the strange symbol, before clasping it around her neck once more. Standing up, she crosses to where one of the side panels has come loose, and prying it out just the slightest bit, she places the pouch full of clinking coins inside, then slides it back into place. "Now comes the boring part," she mutters to herself, looking out the window as the kind, but slightly odd professor disappears into thin air.


End file.
